Extraordionary
by fandm-writer
Summary: A series of one-shots centering around the Hargreeves family and the Umbrella Academy universe.
1. Time, Time, Time

_**Description**_: Allison Hargreeves was done. Done in the truest sense of the word. Alternate ending to 'The White Violin.'

* * *

Allison Hargreeves was done, done in the truest sense of the word. Done listening to her brothers and done following their lead.

Not for the first time in the past twelve-hours, she wished more then anything that she still had her voice. Not because she wanted to use her powers or manipulate the situation, but because she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream at Luther and she wanted to call to Vanya, to tell her everything that she should've told her years ago. But she couldn't, not now, maybe not ever again. However, Allison was perfectly capable of being stubborn, she had grown up with the best of them, after all. She would improvise.

The room was alive with the sound of mounting violin music, waves of power pulsating through the air. Among the chaos, Luther was talking, giving them instructions for a last ditch effort to stop Vanya from playing. Allison barely heard him, her attention so wholly fixated on her sister. She stood at center stage, her irises as white as snow and her suit and violin to match. A blinding glow enveloped her, surrounded her like a protective cocoon. She was so powerful. Powerful, and deadly, and broken.

Something about her eyes caught Allison's attention; it wasn't the obvious glow, rather, it was the look behind them. It was the way her face was pensive and sad, or the way her eyes were cold and hollow. Allison had seen her sister sad, more times then she ever should've allowed, but she had never seen her like this. So empty, so devoid of any kind of spark. The sight of it awakened an ache in Allison's chest, an urge slamming into her with the force of a tidal wave. She didn't fight it, instead, she embraced it. If they were all going to die anyway, this was how Allison wanted to leave this world.

She rose to her feet without hesitation, her eyes never leaving her sister. Luther's panicked voice filled her ears, yelled for her to get down, but she refused to listen. She moved quickly and steadily across the isles, the air around her humming. Vanya continued to play, her fingers moving up and down the strings flawlessly. Allison climbed the stairs, stopping just inches away from her sister. Despite the violin and the sheer power it emanated, the air around Allison seemed to grow quiet and still. It was like standing in the eye of a storm. Her brother's yells grew distant, and Allison soon tuned them out entirely.

For the first time, Vanya regarded her, her features remaining emotionless. She made no move to stop Allison or hurt her, she simply continued to play, the beautiful melody filling the air. Allison locked eyes with her, desperately searching for some piece of her sister, some fragment behind the harsh glow. Tears began to fill her own eyes, a million words trapped behind her damaged vocal cords. She could not say them, she could not speak, so she would have to find another way to communicate her love, her apology, and her pleas.

As the music reached its peak, Allison surged forward, throwing her arms around her sister. All at once, the music cease. The last notes died on the bow string, fading away entirely. A shockwave of energy dispersed around them harmlessly, the platinum violin slipping from her grasp.

Vanya remained rigid as Allison held her close, her grip firm and filled to the brim with a thousand emotions. Then, slowly, she brought her arms up around her sister, returning the embrace. Her form began to melt into hers, her stiff posture relaxing. Allison felt a tremble go through her shoulders, and the sharp sound of a sob filled her ears. More ragged sobs followed, and Vanya's knees soon gave out. Allison followed her down, the two women crumpling to the floor. Tears streamed down Vanya's face, the last of the white draining from her eyes entirely. She held onto Allison like a lifeline, crying into her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Vanya choked out. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice pained and shrill.

Allison only held her tightly, swaying back and forth. The others rushed the stage soon after, all huddling around them. Vanya continued to cry, and the others embraced her as well, whispering reassurances.

They had done it, they had stopped the apocalypse, but more then that, they had saved their sister. Allison didn't know how long they stayed like that, but it didn't really matter, they would stay as long as they needed to. From now on, they would be there for her, in any way she needed them to be. Because they had a lifetime to make up for, but now they had ensured that they would have enough time to do it. Enough time to put their broken piece back together and to mend their severed bonds.

Time to become a family again.


	2. The Power of Hugs

_**Description**__: In which Five comes home early and actually stops the apocalypse. Alternate ending to 'Changes'_

...

_Thirty minutes. He'd only been gone for thirty minutes. _

Those were the thoughts that went through Five's mind as he rounded the corner, having been drawn to the hidden passage by the sound of his sibling's raised voices. The sight that greeted him was not a pleasant one, in fact, it was a bit infuriating.

Luther was engaged in a stand off between Diego, Allison, and Klaus, two out of the three yelling at him to let them by. A large metal cage lay just behind him, the door locked tightly in place. Vanya was inside it, tear tracks streaking along her features. She was banging on the glass, her lips mouthing the words 'I'm sorry' and 'please, let me out.'

"She stays put," Luther argued as Allison tried in vain to push past him.

"What the _hell_ is going on here," Five's voice cut through the tense air, all eyes snapping to him.

All was quiet for a beat.

"Luther locked Vanya up," Klaus replied first, his words sounding a bit a like tattle.

"She has powers," Luther countered, as if it were an explanation.

"That is not a valid reason," Diego shot back, as if he had read the thought that flickered through Five's mind.

"She's dangerous. She hurt Allison," Luther declared, remaining rooted in place. "She's killed people."

Five understood his point, he really did, he just didn't have the patience for it today.

"So have I," his words came out chilled, yet calm. The next few moments that followed were ruled by silence.

"You gonna lock me up too," he added, taking a few paces forward. The words 'not that you could,' hung unspoken in the air.

"That's different," Luther eventually replied, "You saw what she did to Harold Jenkins, she's unstable. I've seen her powers, they're destructive. I think...I think dad knew they were dangerous. That's why he suppressed them. Five, I think her powers could somehow be tied to the apocalypse."

The word 'apocalypse' caught Five's attention immediately, as Luther probably knew it would. The former assassin took a moment to consider the possibility. To run all the equations and probabilities.

_Was it possible_? He didn't know. He didn't have enough variables, nor had he ever seen her powers for himself. Despite that, logic told him that he shouldn't take the chance, that he needed to eliminate all potential threats. Logic had been his lifeline for the better part of a few decades. It was what made him such an efficient agent, and what helped him sleep at night after he pulled the trigger. To him logic was safety, logic was clear and devoid of pain. Logic helped him put one foot in front of the other day after day, when all he wanted to do was give up. But as he locked eyes with his sister through the glass, he realized logic would not help him now, it would not help any of them. Vanya didn't need logic, she needed understanding. She needed her family.

And even if her powers were somehow strong enough to destroy the world, it didn't matter, because it was _Vanya_. The Vanya who worried about them all when they left on missions. The Vanya who always listened, even when others would not. The Vanya who had apparently made him a sandwich every night for who knows how many years after he disappeared. The Vanya he trusted and loved.

"Let her out," Five practically ordered, shocking Luther. "Now."

"You're not listening..." Luther began, frustration in his tone.

"Oh, I'm listening," Five cut him off, his voice echoing off the metallic tunnels around them. "Let me ask you something, Luther," he continued, narrowing his eyes at the much taller man. Despite their obvious size difference, Five didn't feel the slightest bit intimidated. "If Vanya really does somehow jumpstart the end of the world, do you really think locking her in a cage is going to persuade her not to?"

Luther seemed to consider his words for a moment, but he soon dismissed them. "No. It's not happening, it's too dangerous," he spoke with finality.

Five involuntarily clenched his jaw, his last bit of patience slipping away. "I really wish you hadn't said that," he spoke with a quiet sigh.

He then produced a ballpoint pen from his pocket, and took a moment to look it over. It was the one he had been using to jot down equations all week. Oh well, it was almost dry anyway.

"Just jump past him and open the door," Diego urged, like it was the obvious solution. It was, but Five had something else in mind. Luther needed to take his act down a few notches or he was going to get someone (maybe even the entire world) killed. At this point, Five was happy to help him with it.

"Even if you do, I won't let you. She stays put," Luther repeated, his hulking form stationary in front of the cell, like a some kind of prison guard.

"I'm going to tell you exactly what's going to happen," Five began, a dangerous edge to his voice.

The others (including Vanya) watched him intently, like they knew the gravity of the mistake Number One had just made. And really, he should've known better, Five had told him who he was and what he did. Now he was done playing nice.

"I'm going to walk over to that cell, and I'm going to open it. And you're not going to stop me," Five informed, slipping his hands into his pockets and gripping the pen tightly.

"Not. Happening." Luther spoke through gritted teeth.

Five only smirked, the dangerous cold kind of smirk he only used for a select few. One step forward and he was gone, tearing through the fabric of reality with a flash of blue. He materialize right next to Luther, jamming the pen into his leg and breaking it off. Another flash and he was behind him just as he let out a yell and fell to the floor, clutching his damaged leg. This time he slammed the broken pen into a nerve cluster just behind his jaw. _Hard_. The brute was out cold before his head hit the ground.

It was just how Five liked it, quick and efficient.

After that he turned to the cell, Vanya's red-rimmed eyes wide with shock. Five then walked over to the door, and set to work wrenching the rusted wheel handle open. The others were a bit stunned, their eyes still fixed on Luther's unconscious form. However, they quickly came to and rushed across the room to help him. Between all of them, they soon had the heavy metal door open and Vanya's path to freedom clear.

Five had scarcely let go of the handle before Vanya leapt forward, throwing her arms around him. She was crying again, her slender frame seeming so much smaller then his in that moment. Five was surprised at first, it was the first real hug he had had in over 40 years. He didn't hate it. Slowly, he brought his arms up around her.

"I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder, tremors racking her body.

"I know," Five only whispered, holding her tightly. "I know."

Allison soon joined in and hugged her from behind. Vanya reached up to clutch her arm, apologies still spilling from her lips. Diego and Klaus stepped forward as well, reassuring her for Allison and gently rubbing her back.

It was ironic, Five thought, because he had told himself that Vanya could wait. That he would have plenty of time to catch up and to rebuild their bond once he had stopped the apocalypse. Little did he know she should've been the one he was paying attention to all along.

He spent years thinking about what he'd have to do to stop the end of the world. Who he'd have to kill, or what cataclysmic event he'd have to stop. He didn't think it would he something as simple as standing up for his sister.

He didn't think it would be something as small as a hug.


	3. The Sound of Silence

_**Description: **__Even in a household as strict as the Hargreeves, there was always noise, and by the age of thirteen Five had grown far too accustomed to it. Or alternatively, Five has a complicated relationship with sound and sleep. _

...

Noise. He missed the noise more than he ever could've imagined. Looking back, he realized that it was always something one takes for granted. The sound of another human being; moving, breathing, _living_. Even in a household as strict as the Hargreeves, there was always noise.

_Vanya's violin. _

_The echo of Ben's laugher. _

_Allison's voice. _

_Luther's heavy footsteps. _

_Klaus's obnoxious music. _

_The rhythmic sound of Diego's knives hitting the wall. _

_The soft tune of Mom humming to herself._

You can't live in a house with that many people and not grow accustomed to the near-constant background noise. If Five was being honest, it wasn't something he had really thought about before, it just...was. However, as he laid under the pitch black sky, in the ruins of what used to be his bedroom, he wished more then anything that he could hear all that noise again. Even just for a moment. But he couldn't, not now, not from them, not from anybody. Now there was only silence; deafening, suffocating silence. Sometimes, if he listened hard enough, he could hear the distant crackle of flames; the sound of the world burning to the ground. That was it though. There were no people, no voices, no distant hum of traffic, no birds, no animals, no life.

Five squeezed his eyes shut, his ears beginning to ring from the lack of stimulation. He wanted to close his eyes and wake up to the noisy sound of Mom or his siblings knocking on his door. He wanted this to be a nightmare.

But at that moment, what he really wanted was to sleep, solidly and restfully. He had been trying for days, but to no avail. The first day, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion and the strain of time travel. The second day, he dug four graves. He could hardly close his eyes that night without seeing his siblings faces. Faces so familiar, yet so different. In the days that followed, he had spent most of his time trying (and failing) to travel again. Trying to tear his way back through the fabric of time. He wasn't strong enough or skilled enough. _Yet_.

Five let out a huff, throwing the torn and charred blanket off of himself. He began pace what was left of the room, jotting down equations and numbers with a broken piece of chalk. He was approaching day seven, and he had hardly slept more then a few hours. It was something about the quiet that kept him awake. Something about the _absence_.

He had become so used to it all, he never realized it would he so hard to live without it. Five drew in a frustrated breath, racking a hand through his grimy hair. Then, in an act of desperation and impulse, he clenched his fists in front of him, the faintest spark of blue light rippling around them. He gave a monumental push; trying to force his way back to somewhere, to anywhere. Anywhere had to be better then this. So he pushed, and he pushed and he pushed until his powers and his body felt weak.

His knees began to buckle and he stumbled, falling back against what was left of the wall. He slid down into a sitting position, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do any of this. He wanted it all to be fake, he wanted to see his family again, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to _hear_ something. He wanted to hear the footsteps and the yelling and the laughter and the sound of his siblings snoring. He even wanted to hear Klaus's crappy musi...

Five suddenly sat up straight, the realization hitting him full force. He quickly stood and took off running through the rubble, his feet carrying him to the spot his brother's room had once been. He began to dig, rapidly throwing aside bricks and debris. It took him the better part of an hour, but eventually he found what he was looking for.

Afterwards, he made his way back to his 'room', the small cassette player and headphones clutched firmly in his hands. They looked newer and sleeker then what he remembered, but the basic design was still the same. Slowly, Five crawled into his makeshift bed, burying himself under the covers. He then slipped the headphones over his ears and hit play, the familiar sound filling his ears.

_'I think we're alone now. There doesn't seem to be anyone around_,' the voice sang.

It was ironic, and perhaps a bit taunting, but at that moment, Five was too relieved to care, too happy to have found something to fill the silence. The young boy's eyes began to slip closed as he allowed himself to get lost in the song that his siblings had once loved so much. Allowing himself to pretend that everything was as it always had been, if only for a little while.

...

When Five opened his eyes, it was to the familiar site of a motel ceiling. This was his life now, more or less.

_Travel, kill, repeat. _

He had settled into the daily grind by now, the constant flow of time and death. One job after the next. It had taken time to get used to, time to adjust. He didn't sleep at first, the faces of all his victims (along with those of his dead brothers and sister) swirling around in his head every time he closed his eyes. The nameless faces of the millions upon millions of people resided there too.

He hardly slept now, but that was how it always had been. Over forty years in the apocalypse and he had only ever averaged four hours a night, at best. It was a little easier now, there was more sound, more background noise. Yet, somehow, it still wasn't the sounds he wanted to hear.

Five swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood, producing a small stub of chalk from his pocket. You'd think after so long, he'd stop missing them, or that he'd grow accustomed to the quiet. But he never had. You'd also think that after having the Handbook hammered into his head he'd stop wanting to change the future. He hadn't done that either. Maybe he was stubborn, or maybe he was crazy.

Either way, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to stop the apocalypse; he wanted to see his family again. And he was going to do it, or he was going to die trying.

Five inhaled slowly and began to jot down equations on the wall, (which he would have to remember to wipe off later.) He missed Dolores, she was always good at reminding him about things like that.

...

When Five awoke, the first thing he felt was the familiar pull of stitches. He was confused at first, he remembered suturing his arm, but not his side.

However, after a few moments it all came flooding back. The explosion, the slow but persistent flow of blood, and the feeling of having a piece of metal in his stomach for a better part of the day. He also remembered hitting the floor and having to be carried home. Good times.

Five shifted slightly, glancing at the clock on the wall. He was surprised, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept that long. He was about to get up when he froze, his senses suddenly becoming aware of something.

He could hear footsteps and voices and Grace humming in the distance. Yet somehow, it didn't fill him with the comfort he had craved so long ago. Instead, it awakened a dull ache and a sense of nostalgia. It was not the same, it would never be the same again. He had overshot. Ben was still dead, the apocalypse was still happening, and his siblings still looked exactly as they did when they died. But still, it was better than the silent and empty hell he had spent a lifetime in. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was getting there.

_..._

He had failed. The world was crumbling all around them and he hadn't been able to stop it. Though he appeared calm, he was nothing but panic and desperation below the surface.

He had blurted out a last ditch effort, a half formed equation that he hadn't thoroughly thought through. If Five was being honest, he didn't know if it would work. He didn't know if he could transport all his siblings through time, not without overextending his abilities. At best, he might pass out, at worst, it could kill him.

But what he did know was that he didn't care about that, he cared about _them_. He had failed to stop the end of the world, but he refused to fail his family again. He refused to let them die, even if it cost him in the process. Five felt his body begin to sway as the swirling mass of blue intensified, as he hurled them all through time like a bowling ball hitting a lane.

"Hold on, it's gonna get messy," he yelled, his vision beginning to tunnel.

Through the chaos, he could have sworn he saw the thirteen-year-old faces of his brothers sisters. After that, everything went black.

When Five next opened his eyes, it was with more comfort and peace then he had felt in a very long time. The first thing he noticed was the golden morning light, the shards slicing through his window curtains and catching the tiny particles in the air. He was in his room, everything exactly as it had always been. As though he'd never left.

Suddenly, the noises in the background began to finally register, and for a moment, Five felt his breath catch. He could hear everything. He could hear voices and footsteps and shoes scoffing against the floors. He could hear the sound of _life_, the life he had once lost.

Slowly, Five peeled off the covers and stood, revealing a familiar set of pajamas. He also realized there was no more pull of stitches in his arm or in his side. There were no wounds at all. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead, or if it had all somehow been a dream.

No, it wasn't a dream, it couldn't be. He had time traveled, that was all. One couldn't dream the amount of trauma and fear that still lay behind his skull. One couldn't dream up the cold horror he felt at the concept of failing again, or the thought of once again being stuck in an apocalyptic hellscape. It was all still real, and he needed to stop it.

Five was abruptly broken from his thoughts by a set of footsteps walking down hall outside his door. He quickly moved forward and tugged the knob towards him, leaning out the doorway. He felt his heart leap a little in his chest, his eyes landing on a familiar mop of black hair.

"Ben," Five blurted out in a low tone, his voice sounding more raw than he meant it to.

The boy stopped in his tracks, turning around to face him. Five swallowed thickly and moved further into the hallway. He stood there in silence for a moment or so, eyes studying the face he never thought he'd see again.

Sure, he had mourned and lost all his siblings before, but it had been different with Ben. He had never found a body, he had never buried him. One day he had been there, the next day he'd been gone. He never even got to see him again once he had returned.

He wondered if Ben had any idea about what was going on, any memories. Five didn't know if his quantum field could even catch a ghost, let alone return it to its body. He wondered if this Ben knew that he had died, or about what their family and world had become. It would better for him if he didn't, it would be better to spare him all that pain.

Suddenly, Ben spoke, breaking Five from his reverie.

"What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost," Ben said with a wry smile, answering all of Five previous questions for him.

"You're such an ass," Five breathed out, quickly surging forward and pulling his brother into a hug.

Ben let out a quiet laugh and returned the embrace, giving him a few gentle pats on the back.

"I missed you," Five admitted, his voice finally back to its usual steady pitch.

"It's been a long time," Ben answered, his words filled with both relief and weariness.

"It's been longer for me," Five stated as they pulled away, keeping an arm in Ben's shoulder.

Ben nodded in understanding, an almost sad look in his eyes. Five wondered just how much he remembered from his time as a spirit. There was silence for a beat, each allowing the other a moment to settle.

Eventually, Five was the one to speak up. "Where's everyone else. Where's Vanya?" He inquired.

"She's with the others," Ben informed quietly, "I'll take you to them."

He nodded in reply and they set off down the hall, Five falling into step with his brother.

He had lost all of this before, all of them. But now he had a second chance, and he was going to do everything in his power to get it right this time.


End file.
